The Marina
They sit, seldom still, naked
yet not silent - beckoning,
like a wind chime concert
of tapping halyards,
wave slapped hulls and
groaning lines where freedom hints
to their captains, "To sea, to sea".
Copyright © Craig Cornish | Year Posted 2018
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment